


telling you things you already know

by y9gurt (rydellon)



Series: voices in my head [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hearing Voices, Light Angst, Minor Violence, Realistic Minecraft, Spoilers for December 16th, kinda a 4 times style thing, oh yeah baby, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydellon/pseuds/y9gurt
Summary: The Dream Smp had caused him the most migraines he’d had in years, the voices a constant, pounding presence in the back of his mind, filling his vision with red and wrapping around his arms, lifting them up and pulling the trigger, letting his world blow up in red white and blue. Giving in was much easier with the promise of medication and thousands screaming for you to do it, for you to cover your hands in the blood of your littlest brother’s best friend.Blood for the blood god, they chanted in unison. He obliged.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Series: voices in my head [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069994
Comments: 11
Kudos: 114





	telling you things you already know

**Author's Note:**

> new series pog!! based off of [this](https://crim-slay.tumblr.com/post/638186722129231872/listen-guys-im-obsessed-with-the-fact-that) tumblr post by crim-slay. i might change some things but it'll probably stay the same, i just wanted to write little things based off of this post bc i thought it was really fuckin cool.
> 
> title from training wheels by melanie martinez

Technoblade has heard the voices for as long as he can remember.

He remembers being ailed by them as a child, and has consistent memories of lying in his dark bedroom as Phil brings him all the medicine he can to try and dull down a migraine that came with hundreds of thousands of voices screaming at every possible second. Although they didn’t get him into as much trouble back then as they did now, they had still been a nuisance, given that he also remembers getting in trouble for things like drawing all over the walls (the voices liked crayons) and—on one particular occasion—sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to the nether in his pyjamas.

The voices had mellowed out once he started his retirement.

Walking through the portal to the Smp had been a bit of a shock for him, as they had also been pretty chill while he had been spending hours farming potatoes in his wide expanse of farms. The second his head had passed through the portal they had started screeching about his younger (“Two minutes doesn’t fucking count! It doesn’t!”) brothers, about how he had to help them, about how they were in trouble. When he had seen Tommy for the first time in what felt like years they had screeched in joy. He wasn’t screeching in joy, as he didn’t particularly like getting dragged to Pogtopia, and because he knew this would cause him to have another migraine later.

The Dream Smp had caused him the most migraines he’d had in years, the voices a constant, pounding presence in the back of his mind, filling his vision with red and wrapping around his arms, lifting them up and pulling the trigger, letting his world blow up in red white and blue. Giving in was much easier with the promise of medication and thousands screaming for you to do it, for you to cover your hands in the blood of your littlest brother’s best friend. _Blood for the blood god_ , they chanted in unison. He obliged.

Now the most they said was _E_.

Of course, it wasn’t as if they didn’t still yell at him from time to time (the constant _LATE_ when he woke up was never something he’d get used to or like) but it was better now that he had no contact with the rest of the Smp. Isolation was a good look on him.

Of course, nothing could go well for him, ever, and isolation wasn’t about to be any different.

* * *

When he woke up on the morning of December 16th, the voices were already screeching in his ears. A few of the usual _LATE_ s that liked to greet him when he woke up, but most of them were just babbling incoherently about his youngest brother. Something about _Tommy_ and _basements_ and _raccoons_ that Techno just couldn’t wrap his head around.

It was easier to wrap his head around when he left his house to check on his bees and saw the ragged shell of what seemed to be Tommy digging with his bare hands in the snow, desperately trying to cover up a one by one space in the ground to make it look like casually messed up snow.

The voices went absolutely crazy when they saw Tommy, somehow increasing in volume as they yelled at Techno to _protect help helphelphelp_ him, to _kill who did this to him_ , to _not trust Dream_ , to _not let Dream touch Tommy_ . It was sort of like the babble about Tommy that he had been ignoring for the past two weeks (a small margin of the voices had thought it their mission to tell Techno that _his little brother had not been doing so well_ for the past two weeks, had begged Techno to _go to him_ , to _stop Dream_ , to _help_ . Techno had not found it funny that they were lying to him, telling him that _his little brother had been looking out over the vast lava lakes of the Smp’s nether and standing there, in stasis, for minutes on end_ . _Watching. Waiting_. It seems that they had not been lying.) except full force at the front of his brain, a wave of hate directed at Dream and an overwhelmingly large wave of love and affection directed at Tommy.

This is how Technoblade found out that his little brother was burrowing under his house and stealing his shit. _RacconInnit_ made much more sense now.

Techno gave Tommy a place in his house, gave him new clothes, felt his forehead and nursed him through the light fever he had (did this kid not take care of himself? Techno did not want to know the answer to that question.). When Techno finally gave into his curiosity and asked Tommy about Dream, the kid tensed up so hard Techno thought he was going to break.

He didn’t ask again, and just provided Tommy silent support from the sidelines, or as much as he could when Tommy would try and launch his armour at him and shy away, hands grappling for something he could use to dig a hole in the floor.

As long as Tommy knew he was there for him (and would reassure him when his eyes went wide and he started screaming for Dream), Techno thought things could be ok.

* * *

December 16th also brought him (and the voices) into contact with Ghostbur.

He saw the ghost of his twin brother dancing and weaving through the snow that plagued his current habitat, yellow sweater sticking out like a sore thumb.

The voices, which had recently started back up again after he received Phil’s message about being fucking hunted, switched channels immediately at the sight of him, getting all excited and yelling his name like they were trying to get his attention. Ghostbur himself had already noticed Techno and was yelling and waving at him, now rushing towards the house to come inside. Techno was still scrambling about his house trying to get enough potions for the incoming fight he was about to take part in.

As he struggled with the straps of his armour, Ghostbur came up to the door and started having a casual chat, his form slowly becoming more corporeal as he spent more time inside.

Some of the voices started berating Techno for not paying attention to him (HE WAS KIND OF BUSY AT THE MOMENT) while another group decided to start up the _blood for the blood god_ chant, which Techno was honestly kind of happy to listen to.

Ghostbur informed him of what Dream had said for him to do and the voices seemed to melt. Techno felt nothing towards this shell of his twin, and let them do their own thing as he shoved strength pots into his pockets.

When Ghostbur saw the Butcher Army outside of his house and the voices abandoned their previous activities to scream at him to _Protect Ghostbur_ , Techno did nothing except sit in his window and watch as the ghost bobbed through the snow towards the people who were here to kill Technoblade.

And, as he stepped out of his house to fight people who he had fought alongside not a month prior, the unified shouts of _blood for the blood god_ once again grabbed hold of his arm and swung at the people who had decided to show him not once ounce of the mercy he had asked for, all thoughts of others—especially ones of stupid little brothers—were shoved from his brain.

* * *

The voices had always loved Phil. 

They’d gotten happy when they saw him for as long as Techno could remember, and it was no different now, as he was led to his death, Totem of Undying clutched in his hands. Phil was standing on the balcony of his house in New L’Manburg, frowning at the procession of people leading Techno towards the guillotine stationed in front of his house.

Half the voices, not even distracted by the fact that he was about to be literally fucking killed yelled _Phil Phil Phil_ in his brain, filling him with warmth towards his adopted father even at the most inopportune of moments.

Techno glanced up at him and he gave an apologetic gesture to the monitors wrapped around his ankles that prevented him from leaving the premises of his house. _Save him_ , the voices yelled. _Snap them off and run away_. Techno frowned and reminded them that he was currently being executed, to which Fundy just laughed and dragged him over to the wanted poster of him pinned up near the guillotine to take a picture.

Techno watched Phil fruitlessly shoot an arrow at the anvil as it fell from the sky, and watched him frantically deny any knowledge of where Techno was as he ran away. Voices still yelling for Phil, Techno followed the brief sight of dream he saw round a corner to the tunnels under L'Manburg.

As Dream led Techno to the Final Control Room (voices screaming at him to _kill Dream_ , _kill the man who did that to Tommy._ He reminded them that he currently had no armour and no weapons) and he took another one of Quackity’s lives, sticking a diamond pickaxe through his chin to shouts of _blood for the blood god_ that didn’t die down until he was at least halfway home.

* * *

When Techno woke up the next morning, it was to Tommy reaching into the chests next to his head, a grapple shoved in his mouth and at least four more in his hands.

As the usual chorus of _LATE_ started up in his brain and Tommy sprinted to the ladder Techno prepared himself for another long day of dealing with his little brother. As the two stood in front of a planning wall and the voices quieted down from their morning burst of energy, Techno smiled.

Maybe, sometimes, the voices weren’t all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> oooo you wanna drop a comment so bad oooo. follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/y9gurt)


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